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His tongue whipped across his bottom lip, eye's peering open like some kind of seiged up window in a worn, ancient home. Within the cold grasp of silence, the dark clouds hovering over him, he smiled as he realized, his thoughts cheering as he coughed. Finally the battle was won. To which of the three battalions was the honor bestowed? Which evil in this unholy land claimed the title of "Victor"? A loud shreik screeched from the rubble below, Grick had rested only but for a moment before the creature raced toward him. Closing his eye's as fate reared it's ugly head, as it had done so many times to those before him. So many of his comrades, nothing but shells now, cadaverous and stagnant. Grick fixated his eye's over the desolate wasteland, without any reason to impede his killer, simply turning a blind eye to the beastly ghoul.

An audible volley had erupted from behind him, quickly escaping into the atmosphere, as well as the surrounding area, accompanied by a bright flash of light. Grick rolled over the edge of the demolished framework , retreating below the uppermost platform. He landed roughly onto the cracked cement below him, quickly drawing both his knife and pistol. He locked his eye's in on his target, the only opening present in the decrepit room, which connected it with the ruins above. He could hear the shots being fired, somebody was fighting for their lives, or perhaps for his life. "Doesn't matter now..." He muttered a softly spoken tone, hoping whoever that was hadn't heard him as their weapons clip went empty. The sounds of footsteps filled the ceiling to the room above him like a stampede. He promptly attended for a sound, concentrating as audible clicks and screaming filled the air.

Another barrage of gunfire cut through the noise as the Ghouls screamed, blood had begun to rain from the peak of the formation. Suddenly the air went still and quiet, Grick's ears still ringing from the fight. A man emerged from the top of the building, startling Grick with a loud clunk in his landing on the floor. Grick beamed at him with killers eye's, his guns barrel lowering with his realization, this man was Human. The man lowered his assault rifle, giving a dead stare before speaking, his hair thinning, skin pale and a jaw line so thick, it gave life to his image. He was sickly, yet capable, setting his rifle stock down onto the floor as he greeted, "Greetings, my name is Clit Titties, nice to meet you."